


It's (Not) Logical

by Ash__Gray



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Trans Anxiety | Virgil Sanders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2019-10-04 01:23:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17295014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash__Gray/pseuds/Ash__Gray
Summary: Logan internalizes the pain of the other sides, taking it on himself rather than letting them be hurt by illogical things, like dragon witches, the imagination, or themselves.  But as injuries keep escalating because the sides find themselves almost invincible, how much of the illogical pain can Logan stand?OrIn which Logan accidentally takes on a role with shoes he could never fill





	1. Sleepless Nights

**Author's Note:**

> This, if you can't tell, is a more violent work. Please proceed with caution, and read the tags. If there's something else that you feel I should add, just let me know. Feedback is greatly appreciated, thank you for taking time to read!

Logan stared at the ceiling of his room, feeling the painful sensation in his arm once again. His back was sore, along with his ribs and legs and arms and- 'no, dwelling on it will only make the pain worse,' he thought, 'I can tend to the wounds in the morning.'

He had noticed the phantom pains months ago, when the little scrapes and bruises he never remembered getting snowballed into numerous scratch marks and gashes. He shrugged it off, instead choosing to wear long sleeved, button down shirts to cover the bleeding scratch marks coating his arms on the days he needed it. At first he was teased by his counterparts, with little comments about how if he wanted to look more serious, he should just upgrade to a full suit, and how he was missing the pocket protector, but as it became increasingly necessary for him to wear his plain black button downs (never white, he had discovered, unless he wanted ugly red splotches dotting his arms) the teasing faded. Eventually, he had stopped wearing his polo shirts altogether, and the scratch marks turned into little gashes. 

Logan quickly slapped a hand over his mouth as he felt a sharp, searing pain in his chest. He muffled his scream as he watched blood seep into his shirt, quickly tugging it off and evaluating the damage. 

It wasn't as bad as he had originally thought, just three jagged claw marks that had broken the skin. 'This will take a while to heal,' he thought despondently, 'but at least it isn't life threatening.' After wrapping his already bruised chest, he closed his eyes and fell into a fitful, but needed, slumber.

Logan rose in the morning to the monotone ding of his alarm, dreading the thought of having to wrestle himself out of bed. Even though he knew that sleeping in would throw off his sleep schedule, he thought it would be worth it to dull his pain for the next few hours. Or days. At this point, he knew he would sleep for days if he was left undisturbed. 

Shaking off that thought, he sat up slowly, wincing as he became fully awake and aware of the soreness he was left with. Taking a deep breath, he got up, moving to the bathroom to brush his teeth and change his bandages. It was habit at this point, to meticulously take off the old and replace it with new. 'When did this become normal?' He thought, finishing up before heading downstairs. 

"Morning kiddo! Want some pancakes?" Patton greeted with a smile, while Logan nodded back. Someone outside of their self proclaimed family would have thought that Logan was annoyed, stoic, or rude, but Patton had grown used to Logan's ever present poker face, and knew the greeting for exactly what it meant. 

"I apologize Patton, but I am not feeling up to consuming something so dense. Could I have a piece of toast instead?" Logan asked, eyeing the Crofters on the counter. 

"Of course! That's why I asked," Patton said, "just let me Pop it in the toaster!" Patton waited as Logan groaned, smiling to himself. There's nothing like a good old dad joke in the morning! 

Just then, Roman came skipping down the staircase. "Good morning guys!" He sat down in the chair across from Logan at the kitchen table, starting to rant about the monster he defeated in the imagination yesterday. Logan, too tired to pay attention, turned his attention to the piece of toast that Patton had set in front of him, trying not to gag at the strong smell of the maple syrup. Normally, he loved Pattons pattonted pancakes, but his stomach was twisting at the thought of anything accompanying the pain that lay there. 

Virgil was the last to trudge into the kitchen, slumping silently into the closest chair. Patton greeted him with a cup of coffee rather than his usual cheery good morning, knowing that his smol dark son could not handle anything before he finished his first cup of coffee. The others sat in respectful quiet, lowering their voices as to not provoke a headache. Just because they were all morning people did not mean that they wouldn't respect Virgil's night owl tendencies. Once Virgil ha woken up enough to start a conversation, they all returned to their usual banter, Roman, once again, retelling and dramatizing his story of heroism.

"-And the dragon witch almost clawed me! But luckily, I was fast enough to escape her clutches-"

"Oh really," Logan muttered, earning a strange look from Virgil. 'Crofters, I didn't mean to say that out loud'

"-so I stabbed her! Right in the side! Defeating her and saving my village once an for all!" Roman boasted, finishing his retelling.

"Insanity is defined by Einstein as repeating the same action over and over while expecting different results." Logan stated, giving Roma a pointed look.

"I don't see how that's relevant to my magnificent victory, pocket protector," Princey responded, while Virgil watched with an amused smirk.

"It means that Lo thinks you're crazy for defending your little village again." He butted in, causing Roman to scoff. He shot out of his seat, ready to defend his honor and his kingdom, when Logan cut him off.

"I actually only implied that you were insane, for thinking that your village would stay safe yet again. I give it a week." Logan responded, smiling as the troubled prince started to sputter his offended Roman noises. 

"Excuse you, I happe-". Roman was cut off by Patton, who put a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back into his seat.

"Now now kiddos, lets play nice." He stated, and no one could argue against the protective caretaker voice. "Logan, honey, could you help me with the dishes?"

"Of course," he responded, collecting the plates and bringing them to the sink. Patton hugged him from behind 'so tight too tight hurts hurts hurts hurts' as a thank you, washing the dishes as Logan dried them off and put them away. Reaching both the higher and lower shelves hurt his stomach, but the pain was bearable. 'Anything to make Patton smile,' he thought, placing the last pot in the lower cupboard. He winced slightly as he straightened back up, catching the attention of Patton. 

"You feeling okay Logan?" He asked, grabbing his shoulder. Virgil was giving them a suspicious look, seeming to have heard the noise a well. Rather than saying anything, Virgil headed to his room, before Logan could notice his suspicion. 

"Of course I'm okay Patton, why wouldn't I be?" Logan lied through his teeth in a performance Deceit would be proud of, making sure his carefully developed poker face stayed in place. 'Its better to show no emotion then worry them with small pains,' he thought, heading to his room. 'Its only logical.'


	2. Monopoly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into the friendship of Virgil and Logan, along with the soul crushing loses of family game night.

Logan, at the moment, was losing a lot of things. He was losing his temper, agitated by the smug smirk of none other then Patton, who was sitting across from him. Okay, maybe smug smirk was an exaggerated description of the happy, angelic smile on Pattons face, but that did not change the fact that Patton was currently confiscating a large amount of the colored slips of paper that Logan had rightfully earned. Logan was also losing money, and, as a result, Monopoly. A family game night had been called and agreed upon, so even though Logan had planned to continue to hide in his room in order to avoid pitiful or suspicious glances, he coul not ignore the pout on the fatherly sides face. 

After the last game of monopoly, what felt like centuries ago (where Patton set up an in game charity so no one had to lose and Roman, mad about being pitied, did not talk to him for a week) they had agreed to avoid the game forever. However, when they had realized that the emo softies favorite game had been banned at family game night before he had even been accepted into the FamILY, Logan came up with a perfectly logical solution. They had all promised to play by the rule book, no additions or exceptions, so that it was perfectly fair. 

Now, Logan realized the mistake in his thinking. He had overlooked the fact that Monopoly was a cruel game for both the winners and the losers, and Logan could feel the last of his sanity draining away as he slowly went bankrupt. Patton had no remorse, because the rule book showed no remorse, and he had pinky promised to follow it to a tee. Instead, he took enjoyment in the game, not realizing that his innocent demeanor of ruthlessness made every loss hurt so much worse.

After three hours of fighting, taxes, tears, and bankruptcy, Patton emerged victorious. "Awe, don't look so glum guys, losing is the small price to pay for the fun of the game!" After no response, he asked everyone to help pick up the paper money, and they cleaned up the newly destroyed commons. 

Logan felt the scabs on his chest split a little further open with every moment, focusing on putting the slips in color order rather then on the pain in his stomach. It had gotten a lot better, along with the lesser injuries that kept appearing, but he still felt sluggish after spending so much time in his room healing. Although he lost, spending time with the others at game night was a welcome distraction that he had missed.

"I can get the rest of this, Lo. Why don't you sit down and fold up the board?" Logan knew that Virgil had figured out that something was wrong with him. He felt Virgil's eyes slice into him every time he was around the other side, searching nervously for signs of discomfort or peril. The worried, mother hen of a side had also been providing him with ways to avoid work and movement; while it was much appreciated, Logan knew that he could never accept. If he started taking the outs that Virgil provided him with, it would only prove that there was something wrong, and the other sides would take notice as well. 

"It's alright V, I can handle this." Virgil watched with sadness as Logan continued to pick up the stupid papers, bending over slowly with a slight wince to continue cleaning. As much as Logan protested, Virgil still helped him finish, deciding that for once, he couldn't be afraid of addressing the issue. 'Logan is probably sick, he's dying because he is in pain but we can't get hurt or sick which means that he could be fading, what if Thomas' mental state is fading? What if I'm causing him to die? What if-'

His thoughts were cut off by a loud thump, causing him to jump (and slightly squawk but no one could prove anything) out of fear. He looked up, panic increasing, to see Logan laying on the floor. Rushing over, Virgil took his pulse, instincts kicking in.

"I'm fine, don't worry." Logan said after a few seconds, blinking heavily and sitting up slowly, "it was just a dizzy spell." 

"You- you passed out Lo! You hit the ground and weren't responding and-"

"Falsehood, I did regain consciousness after a few seconds and awareness after a few minutes." 

"Lo! Do you know how many permanent health problems are attached to fainting? You could d-"

"V, cognitive distortions. I'm okay, I just stood up too fast, it's not anything you new to worry about."

"But you were hardly moving at all, you can barely bend over. I can tell that there's something wrong with you Logan. Don't think that you can hide pained expressions and blatant avoidance by not taking the problem seriously. What's wrong?"

"I'm okay"

"Do I need to talk to Patton about this?" Virgil threatened, and Logan knew he would go through with it.

"No! I mean, that's not necessary. My stomach just hurts a little because I haven't been eating as much as I usually do, seeing as I've been busy studying and working on schedules. I promise it'll be fixed as soon as everything slows down." Logan received a sceptical look from Virgil, feeling slightly guilty for deceiving the other.

"Okay," Virgil finally responded, "but make sure you take care of yourself." Logan nodded, going to stand up. He was shoved back down by Virgil, causing the scrapes lining the bac o his legs to hurt as they were shoved back into the floor. 

"Sorry! Sorry, but I can't let you move around yet." 

"V, a person is suggested to wait ten to fifteen minutes after passing out to move, but seeing that we have been arguing for at least that long, I will be okay." Virgil shook his head, scooping the nerd into his arms and carrying him gently up the steps.

"What? Don't look shocked, I'm the high or flight reflex. I'm probably even stronger than Princey Poo when it comes down to it. But don't tell him I said that."

Logan chose not to argue, instead enjoying the ride to his room. Walking up the steps would have irritated his wounds more than the positioning of his body in Virgil's arms did, so instead h favored the comfort of closeness. 

Virgil did not usually enjoy or partake In physical affection because of his insecurity in himself and his anxiety around others. None of the other sides knew that Virgil was born in the wrong body, and even if they were as well they could just alter their form and be done with it. Virgil wasn't able to alter his appearance like the others were because it took so much energy out of him. He could usually make it through the day with small changes, like hair color, but he could only go a few hours in the body that he wanted before he grew too exhausted to move. 

Logan had found out shortly after a debate for one of Thomas' videos, where they had assessed different social situations. Afterwords, Virgil had came to him for more knowledge and coping mechanisms, and their friendship had formed. V and Lo told each other almost everything, because of the comforting effect they had on each other. Logan would never tell him about the bruised ribs of his own he received from the bad weeks, when Virgil had no energy to shift his form and dealt with the dysphoria by living in his binder. 

Virgil gently layed Logan on his bed, turning out the lights and tucking him in. Logan, realizing how exhausted he was, put up no argument, instead closing his eyes and releasing the tension that he had been absorbing all day.

"Take care of yourself Lo, I... Love you." Virgil said, closing the door behind him as he left. 'Did he just...' Logan thought, trying to process the words that had slipped out of his counterparts mouth. 'Maybe he thought I was asleep.' With that thought, Logan gave into his exhaustion, deciding to worry himself awake in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a long one! Feel free to leave a comment telling me what you think, and thank you for reading!


	3. Sleep

“Logan... what happened?”

Logan groaned in response, still groggy from last nights fitful sleep. After Virgil tucked him in, he woke up numerous times throughout the night, fits of deep pain pushing him into consciousness. His hair was ratty, his shirt wrinkled, his collar popped and his glasses askew. Needless to say, he was disgruntled by this early morning summoning and was already searching for a way to escape the situation.

“It’s nothing Thomas, I’m just tired is all.”

“Have you even gotten out of bed at all today?” Thomas asked, concern growing by the second.

“Why would I be awake at this ungodly hour?” Logan groaned, wanting to fall back asleep. The comfort of his warm bed sounded better every second, especially considering the fact that he still had to replace his bandages and cover the new wounds. He remembered waking up to another round of the short, horizontal cuts creeping up his arms and legs. Those scars would always be what he was most afraid of; they brought so many different variables of concern for both him and the others. Who was making them, how would he hide them, what if they tried to take it further someday? He was snapped out of his thoughts by Thomas’ response, directing his frazzled attention span back to the interrogation at hand.

“It’s four”

“Why the hell would you summon me at 4 am?” Logan screeched, irked by his hosts call. He did not seem to be in any physical pain, unlike himself, and would have summoned someone else to help with mental trauma or nightmares. It was uncalled for at this time of day, and Logan did not have the mental capacity for this.

“Logan it’s four pm, what have you been doing all day?”

“Oh...” Logan responded, still trying to figure out how to talk his way out of this. He can’t let any of them know the pain he faces, partly because it’s illogical, but mostly because they’ll take back their unnecessary pain out of pity. And if there’s one emotion he did not need it was pity. “Right, of course! Sorry Thomas, I must have lost track of time while working on the new schedule. I’ve got a lot of responsibilities right now, but I promise I will fix it as soon as I grow less busy.”

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“You gave me the new schedule a few days ago.”

‘Well, Crofters.’ Logan thought, starting to panic. “There’s always room for improvement Thomas, I’m checking for any errors.”

“We both know that that’s not true.” Thomas stated, sighing. Logan felt his stomach full with dread, his shallow breaths agitating the already fuming wounds. “We are all worried about you Logan, I just want to know what’s wrong.” 

“I’ll be okay.” He promised, desperately trying to reassure his host. “Its been a long week, and I’m tired, but it will be fixed soon. I’ll fix this, I promise.”

“If you’re sure that’s the only issue.”

“I’m positive.”

“It’s just... Patton was so upset, he was devastated. He said that you’ve been locking yourself away in your room, that you murmer under your breath, you barely spend time with anyone outside of group events and you just seem so tired. And to me, that feels like more than just a rough week.” Thomas looked ready to cry, seemingly under the influence of the emotional side. 

Logan, however, was deep in thought, only hearing half of Thomas’ words as he considered a new hypothesis. ‘Could... Patton be hurting himself? He is the most likely to be influenced by heavy bouts of emotion, and if he was as upset as Thomas described... that means that I caused this. Dear Darwin I caused Patton to...’

Logan was broken out of his thoughts by Thomas’ final words, “...just talk to him for me, okay? They all miss you.”

Logan nodded in affirmation, noticing a small smile of relief replace the worried wrinkles on his host’s face. Exhausted, Logan waved before sinking down to recover his wounds and get some more sleep, completely unaware of the sudden change of emotions. Thomas had noticed the blood that had soaked through his white, long sleeved button up, forming neat little lines a few inches above his wrists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I’m sorry it’s been so long, life decided to punch me in the face, but I’m back and ready to start writing more!


	4. Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation is overheard, and Logan plays on a slide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading, I finally finished this chapter. Feel free to leave a comment, hope you enjoy!

Days where Thomas has nothing planned were secretly Logan’s favorite, no matter how many schedules he created. He enjoyed being able to simply exist in the same room as the others, reading a book while they watched some sort of loud cartoon or bright movie. Virgil usually listened to music while half watching what played on the screen, bored by the twelfth showing of Aladdin or whatever they decided to rewatch in their free time. Thomas had to have seen the movie for it to be added to the mind palace archives, and Virgil was the type of person who could flawlessly remember plots to books, shows, or movies years after experiencing it. Often times, he would accidentally spoil movies, walking in on a movie that Thomas had seen years ago and saying something along the lines of “oh, has Sarah died yet?” Or “Oh, I remember this movie, my favorite part is when they kill all of the aliens with a potato battery.”

As entertaining as those events could be, Logan thoroughly enjoyed sinking his claws into a new book while the sides were focused intently on other activities. It felt like family time, to where they didn’t have to interact or be socializing to take comfort in each other’s presences. That is why he was a bit disappointed when the others were summoned, but he knew that if Thomas needed an opinion or an idea then it was much more important than their leisure activities. 

They were gone for hours. Long enough for Logan’s brain to tell him that they were all dead, and that he needed to go check on them, and if he didn’t then he would lose them forever and Thomas would blame him for not taking away their pain and that he would be worthless because he failed at keeping them safe and-

Logan took a deep breath, pushing aside his emotions to think logically. They had been gone for about five hours, not too concerning of a time frame, but he would not be productive in enjoying his leisure time until he checked in on them. Planning to pop in quickly without being noticed, Logan rose in at the top of the staircase where Virgil usually stood, hidden by the corridor at the top. However, instead of hearing the robust conversation and laughter he was expecting from his host and counterparts, he heard broken sobs and heavy sniffles. Logan froze for a moment, concern growing into worried, frantic spirals, before he pushed it aside. Hesitantly, he took a few steps downward, peeking over the railing at the scene in front of him.

Patton was the first figure he noticed, looking incredibly pale and stiff. Tears were silently streaming down his face while he held Roman in his arms, no doubt the source of most of the noise. He was shaking like the last wilted leaf hanging desperately onto a tree branch, shoved about by the storm of emotions and ready to fall apart at any moment. Thomas and Virgil were hugging each other in the other side of the couch, quiet tears shared between the two. Logan could not do anything but stare, feeling completely useless as he listened to Roman’s blubbering, barely coherent words. 

“It’s.. it’s all my fault, I didnt do do anything to help, I hu-hurt him..”. He repeated the same phrase over and over again, tripping over his words like mile high hurdles. Patton seemed to be ignoring the prince, and everyone else around him, which Logan found even more concerning. Usually Patton would be trying his best to comfort the others, or crying his eyes out; in most cases, he would be doing both. Patton was staring off into space, lost in his own mind, his eyes glazed over and his vision shrouded by darkness. 

Seeing as they were all crying and Roman was babbling about someone that was not in the room, Logan could only conclude that this was his fault. He wondered what they saw, who found out, why they would be crying over him, he’s worthless anyways and his job is to protect them from the illogical, why would they be upset, they shouldn’t be hurt it doesn’t make sense he made sure they wouldn't hurt so why are they hurt now-

He took a deep breath, body quaking as he resseled his way back up the emotional slide in his head. Every step forward caused him to slip further down, but at least he was worried about the shortness of his breath rather than the disappointment of the others. They probably weren’t talking about him anyways, it could very well be about one of Thomas’ other friends. Thomas probably didn’t summon him or tell him because he knew he was like an emotionless robot, he wouldn’t be able to react properly, the others probably didn’t think he could care about anyone else, even though he cares about them because he’s unable to show them without screwing it up, just like he did with game night and breakfast and they are hurt-

Another breath. He stopped letting himself freak out, it was illogical. He is in his optimal state, sure there could be less injuries but those are necessary and already taken care of. He is fine.

He sunk down into his room, laying down on his bed and letting himself breathe. He shut everything out, waiting for the others to tell him the news, so he can work their hurt friend into Thomas’ schedule. He definitely did not feel sick at the thought of anyone else hurt, and he definitely didn’t feel even worse about the thought that they might know. He waited, but nothing came


	5. Discovery

Chapter 5  
Their plan had been to give him space, seeing as Logan was already locked away in his room for the night, and that everyone was worn out from crying until they were out of both tears and comforting words. Patton has been holding it all together, waiting to break down until he was behind closed doors and away from prying eyes. He had to stifle a sob when he passed Logan’s door in the hall. 

He broke when he finally stumbled into his museum of a room, trophies, books, and coloring pages swirling because of the tears in his eyes. He let them fall, soft sounds smothered by the palm of his hand. He needed to be quiet, he can’t draw their attention. His mind was as skewered as his vision, rushing from worry to sadness to anger to hopelessness to numb and he couldn’t handle it, it was too much and would be affecting Thomas if he were awake. His breaths were uneven, gasping and panting through the vice of his fingers. He was swaying slightly, dizziness settling in as he sank to the ground. 

He was lost. He pawed at the ground, scratching at his arm with one hand while the other searched for his would be escape. The scratches never stung or showed on his arms, no matter how long and hard he clawed at it. Finally he found the old pocket knife, once used by Thomas to whittle his first stick at a long passed summer camp. He tried to knick his thumb, watching in frustration as the skin refused to split. Angry, he dragged it all the way up his forearm in one big swoop. It wouldn’t work, he had read so much about how the pain lessens that of the emotions, how it would shut up his brain so he could breathe and keep air in his lungs, but he couldn’t hurt himself. He didn’t get a coping mechanism, no matter how twisted. He got sobbing breaths and spiraling negativity, the two constants in his present existence. 

After crying for what felt like an eternity, he was able to steady his breathing, wiping away tears as he looked up. His eye caught a picture of Thomas at the science fair. He chuckled a little, a sad sort of laugh showing his amusement. He remembered how excited Logan was for that, talking for hours about the project and practicing the presentation until it was perfect. 

Wait, Logan. 

Logan had been hurt, Thomas saw cuts, they had been crying and trying to figure out how to approach the situation for hours. 

Logan. How did Logan end up hurt? Why did Logan give himself the pain that he didn’t deserve, that Patton felt he had both earned and, in his darker moments, had longed for?

Patton couldn’t hurt, Patton was immune. But apparently, Logan wasn’t.

Patton needed to know why.

He reluctantly picked himself up off of the cream colored carpet, dabbing at his swollen eyes with the edges of his cardigan sleeves. He stumbled into the bathroom to evaluate the damage, to see if he can make his sad eyes disappear so he could go question Logan. He needed his son to be okay, and he needed to learn how he did it.

Logan was tired. Everything hurt, from his raging headache to the scratches forming on his arms and opening someone else's cuts to his bruised ribs and claw wounds and the stupid stubbed toe thrown in on top that made Logan want to cry and scream because he hated this and it hurts so much but he deserved it, he knew he deserved it because he can't protect them from it. He took a deep breath, pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind as he began to focus. He had been working on schedules since he calmed down, making up for his show of emotion by being productive. He was logic, so he had to act like it. 

He was about halfway through the next month's schedule when he felt it. A deep, angry gash formed on his forearm, one jagged line crossing over scabs, scars, and missing skin. He screamed, the pain sudden and catching him off guard as it hit him in waves. He vaguely felt the salty water pool in his eyes and drip down his cheeks, but his mind was disconnected, focusing solely on the burning sensation of pure pain.

Somewhere in the depths of his mind, he heard Virgil crash through the door, terrified at the sound of his cry. He rushed to the traits side, scooping him up and carrying him to his bathroom. The blood was sticky on logans arm, red staining the patches hoodie on the chest he was pressed against. He was laid on the floor, and hissed as his arm was cleaned and shakily stitched shut. Logan wanted to protest when virgil reached to unbutton his shirt, but the thick haze of exhaustion coating his senses only allowed a pained groan to slip through his lips. His shirt was gently pulled off his shoulders, folded and set in the corner.

Virgil gasped when he saw the extent of his injuries, and the mentally aware part of Logan cowered at the horrified look and the droplets of sorrow on Virgil's face. His abdomen was bandaged tightly, faint brown stains hinting at the claw marks hidden beneath. His ribcage was a deep purple, marring the pale white flesh. Tiny scrapes, cuts, and bruises littered the rest of his body, signs of clumsiness and overall ignorance towards someone's surroundings. And his arms, Virgil could barely stand do look at his arms. Red, angry marks sporadically coated his arms, laying overtop of shiny new scars. They varied in age, some faint pink memories while others were deep red canyons. Virgil took a shaky breath, grabbing the first aid kit once more to clean and bandage the rest of the wounds. "I'm so, so sorry," he murmured, looking at the now unconscious side one last time before starting to tend to him with shaky hands.

He couldn't see or hear much through the tears filling his eyes and the trembling, breathy sobs tearing at his throat, but he couldn't flee this time. He had to fight through his emotions, his anxiety, his namesake, he had to fight for Logan.


End file.
